


Creepin' Up The Backstairs

by virghoe



Category: Game Grumps
Genre: F/M, Fluff, short and fluffy but whatever
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-08-02
Updated: 2015-08-02
Packaged: 2018-04-12 12:42:15
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,103
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4479629
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/virghoe/pseuds/virghoe
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>You meet the most amazing people in the strangest of ways.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Creepin' Up The Backstairs

**Author's Note:**

> Originally was supposed to be a chapter fic but tbh I had no motive behind writing it lmao  
> So heres just a short little thing that i thought was cute   
> Inspired by Creepin' Up The Backstairs by The Fratellis

Lost and uncomfortable. Yes, those were the words Barry wanted to use right now. It was the weekend after Valentine’s Day, and after watching Barry sulk in an unintentionally dramatic way, Dan had physically forced Barry here. Here being some indie- punk- underground sort of bar. That was the good thing about LA, you could always find some place that fit a very narrow set of people. Barry obviously, was not in this set. He had never heard music like this in a bar before, normally it was pop singles, which Dan held a snobbish attitude at, but Barry secretly enjoyed. But Barry wasn’t disappointed, no, he liked the bouncy riff of a guitar paired with haphazard drumming and almost rusty voice, something about music that sounded barely rehearsed, and just strung together by chance, luck, and fate, moved the heart. Maybe the angsty rebellion he never had in his teens was trying to wiggle its way out tonight. However this desire to actually move was easily suffocated by the overwhelming embarrassment he _knew_ would come after it.

So he sat at a table, meant for two, but his only companion being a damp napkin with bleeding pen marks. Dan was off actually dancing, Barry could spot his bobbing mane in the crowd, his height only matched by a few others. He’d motion for Barry to join him, only to be rejected in the gentlest way Barry could manage. This took a few tries before Dan sighed, dramatically of course, and took a weighted walk to Barry. It was a coarse “Come on” mumbled when Dan yanked Barry through the dance floor, he took Barry to the deepest part, packed so tightly he could barely move, so forget dancing. Dan was a twig, so movement in this area wasn’t as much of a problem as it was for normal sized Barry. But once he took note of dancing surrounding him, Barry noticed it wasn’t _really_ dancing. It was some middle ground between the flowy swing style, and the aggressive moshing that bordered on dance at all. Barry decided he could try to balance this himself, he was here, so not moving would make him look worse. Weighted slings of his limbs were random and uncoordinated, but no one seemed to notice, he merely blurred in with the crowd.

Well, _you_ noticed. But you weren’t going to make fun of him, at least to his face. You had never seen him around in this bar, or any of the other 90’s revolution joints that started popping up recently, which you only attended because, man, was this weird form of dancing a good way to relieve stress. You tried inching a little closer to him and his lanky friend, a little audacious of you, but this atmosphere increased your confidence drastically, that and alcohol. When you finally caught his eye, you tried shooting him your most flirtatious smile, quirked to the side with a bit of teeth showing, and drifting eyes. Playing a little bit of a stereotype here, but who were you trying to show off for, besides him? He smiled back, but he was getting exhausted, you could tell, so his smile was slightly altered with his ever growing fatigue and you couldn’t help letting out a truly _ugly_ laugh at him. His smile faded slightly and he began to turn back to his friend, you had to act quickly.

  
“No, no!” you shouted over the music, which left you only slightly audible, he turned to you again, his eyes a little curious.

  
“It’s cute!” you shouted again, smile wide, just to be abundantly clear that you wanted him to stay. He smiled too, his lips pressed, and before he could let his teeth show, he looked to the floor.

  
Just then the intensity of the songs changed, this one a little faster, so your movements were a little jittery and more frantic than before.  
  
" _When you're creepin' up the backstairs_  
_Mother's nightmares_ "  
  
You both continued dancing, inching closer and closer together, a sort of subconscious attraction taking over you.  
  
_"Falling in the front door_  
_My my"_  
  
And Barry was beginning to build up his confidence. While mindlessly throwing lazy punches to the air he thought out a sloppy plan.  
  
_"Climbing in the window_  
_Get dressed, let's go"_

Maybe he’d grab your hand, something to get your attention, and he’d bring you to his lonely little table, you’d talk, and maybe he’d get your number, this was all a little fast but if anyone was good at idealizing people it was Barry, I mean-

 _"Take your brother's car keys_  
_Bye bye"_  
  
You leaned forward holding your nose. And Barry’s eyes wide. Countless “Oh my God”’s were shouted by him over the music as he escorted you off the floor. It hadn’t really settled in what he had done until you looked at the blood on your hand. He left you at a table, while rushing to the bar to get help. You sat, head downwards, and blood dripping to you palm. When he came back he held unnecessary amounts of napkins and a glass of ice, you cleaned up the main mess, while he worked on a makeshift ice pack. Once finished, he held it to your nose, when you winced slightly at the cold, he pulled back, but you insisted he keep it there.

  
“Well, I’m Barry...” he said pushing his mouth to the side, eyes with crazy amounts of guilt filling them. Good, he was bad at this too, even worse than you. Yeah, you’ve had bad romantic encounters before, but never ending in blood before. But he was still here, so maybe it wasn’t all that bad. With all this, you laughed, hard enough to snort, and hurt your bleeding nose more. To this he tried to muffle his laugh, but failed horribly, but you couldn’t blame him. Shoving a clean tissue in after the already in use one, you faced him, looking a mess with blood stained napkins hanging from your face, and a developing bruise.

  
“I’m (y/n)” you said, trying to suppress your laugh, for fear of another snort. He smiled again, and looked to the ground _again_.

  
“Sorry we had to meet, y’know, like this” he laughed, gestures with his unoccupied hand a little wild. He then moved his hand to scratch the back of his neck, and looking at you like _“God, I just wish we could move past this”._

  
“I’m not” you said plainly, but letting a little smirk curl the “t”. He smiled again, this time wider, and actually looking at you.


End file.
